Under and Over Chapter 22
Scowling, Bracken tosses his phone on his desk. Maddox f***ed up again. Not only did he f**k up, but he's in the hands of Kate Beckett. Worse than that, a rumor's flying that Waterman convened a grand jury with Simmons as a witness. And according to two of Bracken's moles, Lockwood flipped. He'll need a f***ing army to knock down this wildfire, one that's beyond even his resources. He hates to admit that Moss can marshal more juice than he can, but it's the truth. Even with Bracken's steady stream of drug money, Moss' machine outstripped his own. And with Simmons in custody, that stream's dried up.
Gritting his teeth, Bracken starts to pick up his phone, but it buzzes in his hand. "You asshole!" blasts from the speaker in Moss's aging but biting tones. "You've really stepped in it this time. At least three federal agencies besides the DOJ are looking at you. The Senate Ethics Committee is about to convene, and two grand juries are sitting in New York."
"So what are we doing for damage control?" Bracken demands.
"Damage control?" Moss repeats incredulously. "We're way beyond damage control. Even with disavowing any support for you, it's going to take everything I have to keep my organization afloat."
A whine creeps into Bracken's voice. "What about my presidential campaign?"
"What, are you dreaming, Bracken? You can't run for president. You can't run for dogcatcher. What you should do is just run. Scrape together whatever you have left, head somewhere the US can't extradite you, and pray they take you in."
"I can fight this. I have a gift. People believe me. They'll keep believing me," Bracken asserts.
"While every investigative reporter out there works to dig up more dirt on you," Moss retorts. "And if they start raking your muck, I'm going to be splashed with it. I can't let that happen. Take your family and run while you still can. If you don't, I'll have you taken out myself. And my people aren't screw-up mercs. You've got 24 hours to get out of the country before I drop the blade. And Bracken, after the sh*tstorm you've caused me, you're damn lucky to get that."
As the call terminates, the phone slips from Bracken's fingers. For a moment, he stares at it like some unknown creature. Finally, he opens his laptop and brings up his banking portal. As he enters his password, a red banner flashes across the top of the page. "Accounts frozen. Call 021-555-3000 for more information." Damn! One thing he knows from years of fundraising calls is that genuine area codes don't start with zero. It's probably a monitored line. And his sign-on to his account will be logged too. He can access some of his off-shore stashes, but he'll need a new burner to do it. The ones he already has could be monitored as well. He checks his wallet. He has enough cash to get what he needs at a local bodega, no questions asked. And he has more in the hidden safe at his cabin upstate. He bought the place under an alias, so it stands a good chance of escaping scrutiny, at least for now. He checks the time at the corner of his screen. Twenty-four hours, now less, is little time to execute his flight, especially if he takes his family along. He could certainly move faster alone. Moss won't touch them if he's gone, and the investigation will be aimed at him. He can send for them later. Yeah, maybe he'll do that.
"Kate," Rick urges, handing her a glass of wine, "you can slow down now. There's nothing left to do about Bracken. The case against him is in process. It's just a matter of time before an indictment or two come down, and you'll get to shove an arrest warrant in his face."
Kate presses the glass between her palms. "But what if he knows? What if he's running?"
"There's surveillance on him, right?"
"Yeah. Three different federal agencies, including the DEA, because of the Simmons connection. But they'll just follow him, they won't try to stop him until a warrant comes down."
"And when do you think that will be?"
"I don't know, but the first one should be soon, based on Raglan's murder. I'm supposed to get a call the minute the judge issues it. And I probably shouldn't have the wine in case I need to leave right away."
"How about more cocoa?"
"Yeah, I think I can handle that."
In her own apartment, Kate tosses and turns. With both Alexis and Martha home for the evening, she didn't feel right about pacing around the loft waiting for a call that wouldn't come at least until morning. Her bed without Castle's comforting warmth is hardly welcoming, and she has no one to disturb by getting up. Perhaps something's on late-night television that can distract her, and she has a bag of untouched M&Ms. Wrapping herself in a comforter against the night chill her building's heating system doesn't quite hold at bay, she settles on her couch, a bowl of brightly-colored candy in front of her, and starts scanning through channels. She quickly moves on as police cars screech across the screen. Cop shows are a non-starter. Rapidly clicking through options, she almost misses a familiar face, Captain Max from Nebula Nine, her one-time hero. It looks like Gabriel Winters found himself a new gig, playing an eccentric genius wrangler. He looks a little puffy around the edges, but he's still leading a band of misfits, if different ones. Kate settles into her quilted cocoon, gradually drifting into slumber.
The insistent buzz of her phone alarm jerks Kate awake. She reaches for the remote control to silence an early-morning talk show but stops as an announcement comes on. Due to a family emergency, Senator Bracken had to cancel his appearance to discuss his environmental initiative. She jams the off button. "Damn! He's running!" Kate checks the time, seven am. Bracken's surveillance team should be reporting in. Hurriedly grabbing her phone, she hits her contact number for the DEA to get an update.
"So Bracken's on Interstate 87?" Rick queries, climbing into the passenger seat of Kate's unit. "If he's trying to take a powder, I would think he'd head for the airport or the docks."
Kate pulls away from the curb as soon as Rick shuts the passenger-side door. "It could be any minute, but the warrant isn't out yet. Maybe Bracken isn't trying to escape. Or maybe he thinks he has time. But anyway, there must be something upstate he wants badly enough to miss spouting his bull in front of a TV camera. Even if the warrant comes through, it might be worth finding out what it is before we grab him. But I could have a tough time convincing the feds of that."
"You think he has more incriminating evidence up there?"
"That, or money or both. The feds froze his domestic accounts, or at least the ones they know about. He might need a stake."
"I bet I know where you'd love to shove a stake."
Kate can't resist the smile forcing itself to her lips. "I'm not ready to do a Buffy. But I can't think of anyone I would rather snap the cuffs on."
"I take it you're not talking about the pink fuzzy ones they sell at Sex A-Go-Go."
"No, Bracken is getting solid NYPD issue steel."